Monthly Archives: October 2015

Agitated, Irritated, Complicated, Superfragercalalisticexpealidocious and Hair

I’m feeling agitated today. Just some little things. I don’t know if many of you know this about me but I have a child like voice.

When I could eat fast food and would go through the drive thru I had several people working the window say that I could “work in cartoons”.  Some people like my voice and some people don’t.

It has gotten a little deeper with age possibly because I’ve been intubated several times but I’m still a quiet person. It’s hard for me to yell. It has to do with muscles in my diaphragm being too weak. Sometimes a telemarketer would call the house, I would answer and they would ask me if my mommy or daddy were home! I would then tell them “No” they would ask who was home with me. I would say “No one”, at this point I could hear panic on their end so I would tell them how old I was. I thought it was funny, they didn’t.

Some people get the impression that you are weak or innocent in nature when you have a small voice. I hate being seen as weak. My voice isn’t going to get any deeper.

The appointment with The Urologist the other day was an example of where I felt someone was being condescending. Over complimenting my Burgundy Leather Moto Jacket and Boots until it was awkward was irritating to me. It was like he was saying “good for you” or “see you can do it all by yourself”. I wanted to tell him I was doing shots on the tour buses of rock stars when he was in diapers and not to talk down to me. Also I’m incredibly fashionable. Just not when I’m in the Emergency Room for KIDNEY FAILURE!!!

He isn’t the only one. People that I have met in the last few years learn of something in my past and are shocked. SORRY!! I had a life that included alcohol addiction, concerts, dive bars, sometimes meeting known people, and a lot of the time causing trouble. I do not do it now.

No, now I cringe at loud noises (mostly loud men), startle easily, forget where I am, only leave the house about 2 times a week, never meet new people in person, cry often for no reason, get bursts of weird euphoria then crash, want to do things but don’t because I’m tired from doing nothing. This is my hair and outfit for the Urologist.10398029_486044241577499_6901965662850127787_n That’s a feather sticking out, my hair stylist colored my hair to match the feather.

Anxiety is My Middle Name

Since getting my puppy my anxiety has been through the roof. I don’t know what the problem is. I feel like something bad is going to happen. When he whines I feel my heart break. I know you’re supposed to let them whine because giving in only reinforces the behavior. I have a hard time doing this. Chihuahuas are kind of different. They are prone to separation anxiety. It can actually be harmful to them to be crate trained. This depends on who you believe. They are very intuitive so I believe it can be harmful. I’m so frazzled right now I don’t know what I’m doing.

I also hate that I’ve always considered myself good with animals. I hate that I feel like I’m failing this poor puppy. Even though he’s getting food, water, shelter and love. I don’t know why I still feel this way. I’m in a bad place right now. I love him and he loves me. So why do I feel so overwhelmed?

Maybe it’s the fact that my father yells at every little thing. I jump every time the dog is out of my sight just in case he has an accident. For Christ’s sake my dad’s parrots make a bigger mess! I don’t like being reprimanded. I can’t follow the dog 24 hours a day. I’m trying the best I can.

I’m also worried about my medical bills. I applied for help and they only agreed to help with 3 days when it was supposed to be 6 months. With more surgeries coming up what am I supposed to do? I’m on disability and they say I make too much. How is that possible? If I lived on my own I wouldn’t be able to afford shelter. The cut off is in the area of $860 a month. You can’t get more than that to qualify. You can’t live on $860 a month. I have to have the surgeries there is no other choice. So add that to my anxiety list.

I have to have a conversation with my Psychiatrist on 11/11/15 about how he does my assessment. He keeps copying and pasting from one visit to the next. When I go up for Review this looks bad. He just puts in a code for Bipolar I or Bipolar II. It should have Bipolar I, Conversion Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Social Phobia, and PTSD. I think there’s more but I forget. He never puts any real notes about my condition or how I’m doing. Knowing him this will not go well.

I also don’t want to have the surgeries.

I hate complaining but no one listens anyways.

Pretty soon I’ll have lock jaw from clenching my teeth constantly. I do it all day and don’t even know it. I have TMJ and was already told a few years ago how bad it was.

Everything just feels off and sucks right now.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I’m tired, confused, my head feels like an axe is trying to split it in two. I forgot to eat and drink yesterday. All of this is due to what I wanted. A dog. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a puppy. It’s hell. I can’t do my routine at night and I do not like change. I look like the Grim Reaper. My father isn’t being helpful at all. I was ready to give up on the idea because part of me knew but then he asked why I wasn’t looking for dogs anymore. And when I rejected 2 that we went to see he got pissed. Then he pushed me to keep looking. Now he won’t watch the puppy for me to even go to the bathroom. Or to go to the store to get supplies for the puppy.

I’m having major panic attacks all day and when I went to the Doctor he told me I’ll be having 3 more surgeries. Who’s going to watch the puppy? And I may be left using a catheter for the rest of my life. It won’t be in all the time just as needed. But still who wants to do that? So I’m stressed out, stuttering, getting yelled at, not sleeping, sweating (don’t ask), and an all around mess.

But I love the dog and I’ll figure it out. I’ve never given up on an animal, a person is different an animal never.

Invasion of The Doctor Snatchers

I had the most interesting doctor’s appointment today. My sister came with me as back up because I have trouble remembering things. My appointment was with the Urologist that can be a little overbearing and I always take what he says the wrong way. Even my sister has heard him through the wall being an ass to an elderly man with prostrate cancer.

When he entered the room he apologized profusely for being late and gave me a hug. He said he loved what I had on. He then said hello to my sister and said how great it was to see her again. We went over what the plan was going to be for my kidney problem. He wanted to take out one of my stents in their office surgical suite but wasn’t sure.

I was trying to explain to him my problem with waking up from anesthesia because of the Conversion Disorder. I was stuttering and getting emotional. It’s embarrassing when this happens. I needed him to be aware so his staff would know. At the hospital they are a little more equipped with dealing with these problems.

My sister was getting annoyed and said “He doesn’t need to know all this.” He actually hugged me again and said ” Look I love you and care about your well being so I do need to know. If you think the hospital is better than we will do that.” I thought I would fall off the chair. My sister looked even more annoyed.

I think she looked annoyed because she was diagnosed with a version of Conversion Disorder that was easily taken care of. Mine may never go away. Her’s was due to being fired from her job, having 2 small children, and her husband’s addiction issues. Mine is caused by multiple traumas. I also have a coexisting condition that makes it harder to treat. She will never understand this.

When at one point she tried to “shush” me, I said “Don’t you dare do that to me”. It didn’t come out clearly like that because of my stutter but she got it. So did the doctor. On the way out I got more hugs from him. When my sister and I got outside we both started laughing. We couldn’t believe the “hugging” and the “I love you’s” during my visit. I told her there was something not quite right with the guy. You never know what you’re going to get. But I’ll take today’s visit over the other ones anytime.

Meet Dutch A New Love

This is Dutch. He is a Blue Merle Chihuahua and 10 weeks old. He’s going to be bigger than normal Chihuahuas. He’s already 4 pounds and eating dry food. Pookie was 5 pounds full grown. But there was something in this one, the blue eyes of an old soul. He ran to me as soon as I walked in and he was the one I picked in the picture out of the litter. So I figured it was meant to be.DSC01242DSC01246

I’m Crazy?!?

I was getting some negative feedback from you know who about getting another dog. Even my dad was against it. Now my dad has done a 180 and is obsessed with finding another dog. He actually was mad at me for not connecting with one we looked at today! He was mad the entire ride home. He isn’t even putting up any money for fees or anything. He’s beginning to annoy me. I’m still holding a grudge for the “perfect” ones he let get away. If he had went with me to fill out the paperwork it would have looked better. He kept saying no and waited until the last minute to say yes. I love him but he’s stressing me out. And my sister isn’t talking to me at all. I guess that isn’t such a big loss. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.

What Makes A Good Day

Today I went to the salon and had my hair done. My hair stylist has been on maternity leave so I have not seen her in long time.

I had forgotten how much I love the smell and sounds of a salon. It made me happy.

I had forgotten how  the person who does my hair always has a light around her. She wears the jewelry I make and posts pictures of it on her Pinterest page and Facebook. When she does this she always has kind words to say about me.

She also has a best friend that is Bipolar. She never treats me differently and always offers words of encouragement and compassion.

She invites me out for coffee or dinner. Most times I decline. I’m too afraid. She knows this and doesn’t push but still continues to ask anyway.

She tells me I am beautiful, kind, smart and one of the best people she’s ever met. She tells me these things even after seeing me cry in her chair.

She likes my rambling. She says it doesn’t bother her because sometimes she learns something new.

I know I am paying her for a service but she has plenty of clients and doesn’t need to blow smoke up my ass to keep me as one. She is genuinely concerned about me and takes an interest in what I do. That is rare.

She has invited me to go to a corn maze and I will try to make myself go. It’s time.

I told my sister I would be limiting my contact with her. Every interaction with my sister leaves me feeling worse than when I started. It isn’t her fault. She’ll never be able to fully understand me. Truth is she never did and never tried. I have to accept that or keep getting hurt by it. I can not handle the hurt anymore. She’s my twin and I love her with everything I have but sometimes you have to take a step back for awhile.

So today was a better day and tomorrow we’ll see what happens.

I Once Had An Epiphany Too

There was a time, just recently, where I thought to myself I am loved.

I am wanted. I would be missed. I need to start doing things that make me happy.

It was just hours before I came close to dying. The hospital staff had been in with the Do Not Resuscitate papers and asked if I wanted to see a Priest.

No one could reach my family.

I thought for a frightening minute this is how it was suppose to be. Me dying alone.

My sister came running in shaking and crying. She held me like my mom used to and told me it was ok.

My sister in law came and told me she loved me.

My best friend came with her mom, both with tears streaming down their faces.

I was happy for the first time in a long time.

The doctors were able to save me for the time being.

This was in July and since then everything has gone back to the way it was.

No more hugs from my sister. She just yells at me to get “Your shit together!”.

No calls returned from my sister in law.

No interaction with my best friend.

And my dog died.

So the happiness of living and wanting to live disappeared. The Black Hole Of Bipolar came and swallowed me up.

I called my sister yesterday to hear her voice. I asked her to please just do one thing. Just tell me you love me. Instead I got a backlash of how I’m not normal and need help. How it isn’t fair that I hold everyone hostage with my illness. I hung up on her.

Yesterday all I wanted was a hug, some human kindness. I begged, I pleaded, my dad walked away.

How many bricks need to fall on my head? How can I not feel unwanted, unloved? How can they not see how close they are to losing me?

I am ready to leave. Go anywhere that isn’t here.

I know I’m supposed to pretend everything is fine. I was never good at pretending. Do you know what FINE means? Fucked-up, Irrational, Neurotic, Emotional.  So I guess I’m fine. And yeah I stole that from The Great Steven Tyler.

My Experience With ECT

My experience with ECT is probably not the usual one. I don’t remember if I had been diagnosed with Conversion Disorder yet or not. As with many other people I was at a point of desperation. I should have waited and planned an Outpatient ECT Program with my Psychiatrist. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and admitted myself to the hospital he worked at. They were set to do the ECT until a blip showed up on my EKG. They were worried about not having the emergency equipment on hand if something happened. The doctors agreed I needed it done and transported me to a nearby Hospital that did it. This is where things started to go downhill.

The Psychiatrist in charge did not believe in the use of Klonopin. They also didn’t carry the medication I was on because it was too new. No one knew that when you have Conversion Disorder with Bipolar Disorder that it can make things difficult when you wake up. The staff was unprepared.

Anesthesia and Conversion Disorder can sometimes be a bad combination too. When I woke up I wasn’t expecting to feel like a spike was being driven through my skull with a sledgehammer. My eyes were constantly leaking tears. I had regressed to the age of a 5 year old. I kept asking when my mommy was coming. She was deceased so that wasn’t happening. The staff played along and kept telling me she was on her way. I don’t know if this was helpful or not.

I didn’t know if you were supposed to slowly remember on your own. It took about 6 hours for the memory of my mother’s death to play back in my mind. It wasn’t pleasant. The doctor was not compassionate or sympathetic. They didn’t give me any of my meds or anything for the extreme pain in my head.

My ECT was bilateral. When I finally got home and a few days went by I noticed a huge difference in how I felt. I was happier, I did things on my own and left the house more. This lasted for about 6 to 8 months.

If there was a guarantee that I could have it done in the correct setting with the right doctors I would do it again.

Now my physical health is too bad to have it done, my medications are not working to their full extent. I have gone downhill so much in the last year. Everyday is a challenge. My family is so annoyed and sick of hearing about my illness. I try not to talk about it.

Today was extremely bad and I had no one. My sister finally calls me back. Her answer was for me to “get my shit together”.

It’s overwhelming. From now on I’m not discussing it with anyone in my family.


The days where the aching pain, grief and loneliness get me are so bad I can’t describe them. I’m filled with guilt and tears, shame and regret. I want something to comfort me. I tried to hold the Papillon but he didn’t go for it. I put my head next to my laptop while Johnny Cash sang Hurt and cried. Nothing to comfort me. Before Pookie would be there to curl up with me. Now it’s a nasty look from my father as he leaves me and I sit alone again wishing for something or someone to help me or release me.

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